Seriously Mother!
by Porky Poo
Summary: In which Frigga is the over pretective mother we all know she is.


"Mother please!" Loki pleaded as he ducked away from Frigga. She was trying to straighten his black hair, again. It seemed no matter how many times she smoothed it down it seemed to stick out at odd angles. And of course he never made it easy for her, always dodging and moving away.

"Hold still," Frigga reprimanded trying to pin the wiggling boy down. She finally managed to grab hold of him and stop his movement, and quickly she fixed his hair before he pulled away.

"Well, mother," Loki's older brother Thor intervened for his distressed brother. "We must get going. Sif will wonder what has been keeping us."

"You are not going to see Sif dressed like that," Frigga exclaimed, giving up on Loki and turning her attention to her oldest son. The young mischief god seized an opportunity while his mother was distracted and quickly fixed his hair.

"What is wrong with what I am wearing?" Thor asked looking down at his attire. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it as far as he could tell.

"Well dear, it is a little…. Well it is a tiny bit too much like… Armor," his mother hesitated, trying to find the words that fit.

"Mother it _is_ armor," Thor explained, "We are going to be doing a battle simulation."

"Very well," Frigga conceded, knowing that she wasn't going to change her son's mind as to the day's activity. "But you look after your brother."

"I will be fine," Loki reassured his over protective mother. Upon speaking his mother turned back to him and first noticing his freshly messed up hair she noticed his clothes.

"Why are you not wearing armor?" Frigga exclaimed.

"Loki will not be in the line of battle," Thor quickly explained keeping his voice calm. "We simply need something to fight."

"You are going to fight your little brother!?" Frigga exclaimed once more.

"Mother, no, I am just going to give them something to hit," Loki clarified as another image of himself appeared next to the real him. "You underestimate me," both Loki's spoke in unison.

"Very well, I am not saying that I like it but I can't really stop you," Frigga conceded and as she spoke she quickly reached out her hand to straighten Loki's hair. He was anticipating it and both images of him moved out of the way just as quickly. With a gentle sigh she turned back to Thor and said, "You keep him safe."

"Of course mother," Thor told her, and as he spoke the second image of Loki vanished into the air leaving only one Loki standing next to his brother.

"We should go," Loki interjected, change the subject from himself, to Sif. "As Thor said, Sif will be growing impatient."

As if in answer to his words the fierce young warrior woman appeared striding confidently towards them. She came to a stop in front of the two gods and their mother.

"There you two are," she said briskly, "I have been waiting for you."

"Um, hello Sif," Thor stammered, embarrassed to be in front of his mother.

Before Sif could give a reply to Thor's stammered salutation she noticed Frigga standing behind him and with a bow she said, "Good morning your highness."

"Hello Sif," Frigga politely returned the warriors greeting, "how are you, my dear?"

"Very well, thank you," Sif replied, bowing for a second time. "I hope you don't mind but I have come to take your sons away. I promised to teach Thor some new techniques."

"Of course," Frigga said, "By all means take them away."

"Thank you, your majesty," Sif said with another bow, and turning she began to walk away.

"Goodbye Mother," Both of Frigga's sons said while turning to catch up to their friend.

"Loki wait," Frigga said to her youngest son.

"What?" he asked turning back. As Loki turned Frigga made one more dash at his black hair. But just as her hand made contact with him he disintegrated into light.

"Seriously Mother," Loki said leaning confidently on the door frame across the room, "You underestimate me."

"Get out of here," Frigga said with a wave of her hand. But as the three left the room she couldn't help but smile at the antics of her sons.

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**A\N**

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